


Failed Investments

by MonsterBrush



Category: Coraline (2009), Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Pitch is creepy, this is what happens when I watch other movies while thinking about RotG
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterBrush/pseuds/MonsterBrush
Summary: The Beldam owes the Bogeyman something special, and he's come to collect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago and I decided to touch it up and post it. To make a long story short, Pitch Black created the Beldam much like the Man in the Moon created Jack Frost. Takes place shortly after the events in RotG, with a hearty dose of GoC thrown in. Pitch is getting awfully tired of his creations failing him.

“Beldam,” A rich voice purred from beyond the door.

The world that the Beldam had created consisted only of the walls and ceiling of the room she was in. The floor had fallen away, with only a crooked spider’s web preventing the room’s contents from plunging into an empty white void.

The Beldam scrambled to her spindly needle legs, turning blindly towards the unexpected voice as a shadow stretched along the wall from the frame of the door, tall and thin. A man leaned out of the shadow, his cold silver-gold eyes half lidded as he gazed down at the pitiful thing crawling blindly in the center of her web.

“You! You came back for me!” The Beldam exclaimed, sounding teary with relief, scuttling up the web with alarming speed. Her spidery limbs spread out to embrace him only to fall on empty air. She caught herself on the wall, her head weaving to locate the Bogeyman who had retreated into his shadow and swept to the opposite side of the room.

Her eyes were gone, Pitch noted. Clawed out, if the faint scratches that scored her already broken face were any indication, and she was missing a hand as well. He wasn’t the only one recovering from defeat, it seemed.

“I did not come here to play house,” Pitch told her, his upper body reemerging from the shadows. “Where are they, Beldam?” The Beldam turned jerkily, the sharp points of her remaining hand scraping across the dilapidated wallpaper.

“Where are… who?” She asked haltingly, cocking her head to one side innocently as she gave him a fractured grin.

“Where are the children?” Pitch’s eyes narrowed at the way the broken smile fell from her face. “You’ve had more than enough time to collect them,” He said, sweeping the room in search of some small nook where she might have hidden them and finding nothing.

“I don’t—“ she began, and it sounded to Pitch as though she might dare lie. His expression darkened and he whirled on her suddenly.

“It’s been one hundred and fifty years. You would have me believe that in all that time you couldn’t spare a single child?”

“No, no, it’s not that! I—“

“I gave you what you wanted. A home. And you promised to fill it,” He interrupted. “One child is all that I ask for. Just one.” His voice wavered with some barely contained emotion, and the Beldam’s legs tapped nervously. Surely she hadn’t eaten them all.

“I know, but—“

“Were you too caught up in your foolish little games to remember what you owed me? Who was it that gave you new life? Who was it that guided your hands as you wove your first web? I gave you power. I gave you purpose. I gave you a home. And you have given me nothing. Is one child _really_ so much to ask for?”

“I had a child for you!” She insisted desperately, because of course she was desperate. Even a spirit as young and isolated as her knew better than to displease the Nightmare King. “A perfect little girl, but—” her face twisted with rage, “—she was an _ungrateful brat_! She left me! All alone …” The Beldam trailed off in dismay. Even blind, she could sense the bubbling rage that seethed beneath Pitch’s skin.

“You’ve betrayed me,” He said at last, something like a vice closing around his insides.

“No! I would never!” She cried hastily, crawling along the wall to reach him. He slipped away from her clutches like smoke, an impassive mask settling over his already stony expression.

“I asked for a child, a little boy or girl to make my own, and after all I’ve done for you, you couldn’t even manage _that_ ,” he hissed.

“It wasn’t my fault! She ran away!” She protested, reaching for him helplessly.

“You’ve failed me. I trusted you, and you failed me.” Pitch towered over her. He had enough strength, at least, for this.

“No, no, no! It wasn’t my fault! Please, don’t leave me here!” The fear that the Beldam felt now tasted bitter sweet. She feared that he would leave her trapped in her own web forever. As powerful as that fear was, it was not the fear that Pitch hungered for at that moment. He didn’t want to leave her in eternal solitude. He wanted something a little more… horrific.

“Oh, I would never _leave_ you.”

It was a shame the Beldam had lost her eyes. She couldn’t see the shadows that crept along her web, and so she had no way of knowing that they were slowly surrounding her. So when she slumped in relief, the last thing she expected was for the shadows to lunge and overwhelm her.

The world that the Beldam had created—that Pitch had helped her create—fell apart behind him as he emerged from underneath the door to the real world, brushing a bit of dust and cobweb from his robe with a frown.

So many years… and for what? It had been nothing but a waste of time and energy.

He tucked what was left of the Beldam into his pocket, paying little mind to the stray fearlings that retreated into his shadow while he walked, and turned to cast one last look at the ancient mansion behind him.

He remembered the Pink Palace in its prime. It had been magnificent back then, so full of possibilities and ripe with potential. It had aged well. Hardly a shingle out of place, and barely a chip in the paint. The current owner was doing a remarkable job of maintaining it. He was going to miss having an excuse to visit the place.

“ _Meow_.”

Pitch narrowed his eyes at the creature twining itself between his legs, scowling in disgust as it moved to sit directly in his path.

“You again. What are you doing here _this_ time?” it asked coldly, lifting its paw to groom delicately.

“Just picking up the pieces of a failed investment,” Pitch answered dully, stepping around the cat.

“You’re taking that woman with you then?” it asked, walking beside him.

“Yes.” Pitch smoothed the front of his robe, feeling the lump in his pocket under his fingers. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with her failure, would you?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I’m sure you’re just waiting for an excuse to kick me across the yard,” the cat drawled.

“Who says I need an excuse?” Pitch asked, making as if to lunge at the cat. He smirked when it jumped skittishly out of kicking range, arching and spitting defensively. Pitch used the opportunity to walk ahead, still grinning. “Scaredy cat,” he snickered.

“Hmph,” the cat huffed, the tip of its tail flicking irritably as it sat back and glared as the Bogeyman disappeared into the shadows. “Good riddance.”


	2. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch sets his sights on the brave little girl who bested the Beldam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pitch you creepy obsessive weirdo. I honestly didn't think I would write more for this fic until just yesterday. Why do I do these things to myself?

Pitch hadn’t intended to come back to the Pink Palace. With the Beldam gone, there was no reason to return, but as his lair was teeming with nightmares he was not in the best position to be picky about where he would recuperate. He did not yet have the energy to rebuild the world beyond the little door where the Beldam had been trapped, and it needed a host to be sustained, but he would find a way to make it work. It was the best he could get. In the meantime, he occupied himself with the fascinating little girl who had so cunningly defeated the Beldam at her own game a few months prior.

Coraline was a gangly little thing for her age, clever, adventurous, and _fearless_. He loved her so much already. She had one friend, a timid boy by the name of Wybie, whom she saw occasionally, but Pitch took little interest in him.

“Coraline,” Pitch murmured to himself. What an odd name. But then again, she was an odd girl. An odd girl with an odd name, living in an odd house with odd neighbors. The Pink Palace suited her rather well, he thought. It was her parents that stuck out like a sore thumb. They were quite possibly the dullest pair of humans Pitch had ever encountered. How such a curious girl came from such ordinary roots, he couldn’t fathom, but he had found her and that was all that mattered.

She went wherever her interests led her, indulging her “eccentric” neighbors’ whims, and even her boring parents seemed to grow more vibrant simply by being near her. She was an outstanding child. Her belief was powerful, and he had no doubt she would be able to see him if he chose to reveal himself. He didn’t though, not yet. He wasn’t ready yet.

Pitch couldn’t follow her on all of her escapades, but when the cloud cover was thick enough he watched her from the shade as she traversed the land surrounding the Pink Palace and always, _always_ , that damnable cat was by her side when he did.

That cat never liked him. Animals rarely did, and this one in particular took great issue with his increased presence around the Pink Palace. It knew he had returned, even if it had yet to spot him, and it followed Coraline especially close whenever it thought he was near, but it couldn’t follow her everywhere. Coraline’s parents didn’t want strays in the house, and they fretted over ticks and fleas and cat hair and dead rodents incessantly whenever the cat came around.

Coraline didn’t always listen to them of course, being the delightful little rebel that she was, and often snuck the furry beast into her room via the window. Pitch couldn’t stay long when she let the cat into her room, his distaste for the creature warring with his fondness for the girl.

During nights when the cat was away Pitch would watch her sleep. He didn’t dare touch her dreams at first, not with the memory of his defeat still fresh in his mind and his traitorous creations running loose, but he watched the dreamsand hovering over her head and listened to the shadows whispering in his ears and wondered if perhaps he had found the perfect child at last.

Maybe it would be safe. The Guardians wouldn’t be looking for him anytime soon. They would think he was still trapped underground being torn apart by his nightmares, and Jack Frost was no doubt lingering on the other side of the country with his precious new believers. Coraline had surely lost all of her baby teeth by now, and so long as he didn’t alert Sanderson or Lunanoff to his presence they wouldn’t notice a thing. Maybe this time it would work.

But first he had to prepare. He couldn’t afford to wait long, Coraline’s childhood was finite and short, and every second counted, but he couldn’t rush either. He salvaged power from his shadows and devoured whatever fear he could find, biding his time and gathering strength.

The Other World was inaccessible, and it would be a terrible waste if he were to keep it that way. It was a shame how it had fallen apart after he had dealt with the Beldam. He couldn’t recreate the dolls that she had made, so those assets were lost as well, but he salvaged what he could. He rebuilt the world from scratch, the same as it was before, minus a few _minor_ details.

So he hadn’t made the outside of the house yet. So the inside of the house wasn’t exactly finished either. So the staircase didn’t lead anywhere and tilted precariously to one side. So the floorboards were a little uneven and lifted up from time to time. So the lighting was awful, he hadn’t put up any wallpaper yet, and the only room with furniture was the room with the door. He could make it work. It was all for her after all. But there was something missing. Something essential.

“The key, the key. Where is the key?” he purred into Coraline’s ear while she slept. He knew she had it, he just couldn’t find it, but she would help him. She had yet to be touched by dreamsand that night, so it was the perfect time to inspect her dreams without risking unwanted attention.

The girl turned over in her sleep, her nose crinkling as she frowned. “Show me where you’ve hidden it,” he hissed softly, sinking his claws into the thin strand of fear that emerged with the memory.

It was night and she had left the Pink Palace for the apple orchards. There was the tinkling sound of needles against stone and as she turned wire thin fingers wrapped around her throat. Coraline woke in cold sweat but Pitch had gotten all he needed.

She and her fidgety friend had dropped the key into the well. Clever child. No one in their right mind would venture down into such a decrepit place for the sake of recovering something so seemingly insignificant, but for Pitch it was the best place for her to have hidden it. Water was only a small inconvenience to him and his shadows.

At the bottom of the well he found the key dangling from a string that tied a bundle of cloth shut. Sure he could have sent a fearling down to fetch the key, but he wanted to retrieve it himself. Inside the blanket was a hefty rock and—oh! The Beldam’s missing hand! How quaint. More pieces to add to the pile, he supposed.

Pitch brought the entire thing with him. Coraline would be happy to have her blanket back, and Pitch would add the pieces of the Beldam’s hand to what little was left of her to be dealt with later. In the meantime, he washed the blanket and mended the tears that he found in it. Sewing may have been the Beldam’s trade, but she wasn’t the only one who knew her way around a needle, and he did a fine job even if he did say so himself.

He wished he could be able to see the look on Coraline’s face when she saw his present in the morning, but he had very important work to do. There was one last touch to his plan that he couldn’t resist adding. So, needle and thread in hand, Pitch stood in front of the hallway mirror and raised a button to his eye.

Coraline was going to make a lovely darkling princess.


	3. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coraline meets the madman behind the little door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, oh god, Pitch has already imprinted on her, someone send help before he starts following her everywhere like a terrifying baby duckling! Warning for creepy Pitch in both visual and literary form because I MADE AN ILLUSTRATION AGAIN.

Coraline didn’t like what she found at the foot of her bed when she woke up that morning. Well, she didn’t like a lot of the things she usually found at the foot of her bed, most of them being the dead things that the black cat left for her occasionally, but she especially didn’t like what she found today. 

There, sitting atop a neatly folded blanket that she had last seen falling into the depths of the old well, was the black key that had most certainly fallen with it. She didn’t want to touch it at first.

How had it gotten there? Was it the Other Mother? She shouldn’t have been able to find the key, and she wouldn’t have left it for Coraline if she had. Maybe it was a trick to get Coraline to unlock the little door. Ha! She wasn’t stupid! She was never opening that door ever again, and that key was going back to the bottom of the old well where it belonged.

Coraline picked up the key and lifted the blanket by one corner, unfurling it as she dragged it off the bed to drape around her shoulders. She was surprised by the clatter of something hitting the floor when she did, and recoiled quickly at the pair of black buttons that she found staring up at her from the ground. She recognized those buttons. She could tell from the scratches, those were the same buttons that the cat had clawed from the Other Mother’s face. She wondered if the Other Mother could still see out of them.

Coraline almost didn’t notice the scrap of paper that had fluttered down with the buttons until she stooped to examine them further. It had slid partway under her bed and was quite possibly the fanciest piece of paper Coraline had ever touched. She felt nervous even handling it, worried that her fingers would mark it’s spotless surface as she unfolded it carefully.

It was a note, written in the most convoluted cursive Coraline had ever seen. It reminded her of those pictures in her history textbooks from school of important documents like the _Declaration of Independence_. The thin slanted writing was nearly impossible to read at first, but Coraline gradually began to make out what was written, one letter at a time.

_Meet me behind the little door._

There was no signature, no explanation, nothing. Coraline nudged one of the buttons with her toe and frowned at the key in her hand.

“Meow.”

Coraline tore her eyes away from the key at the muffled sound to see the cat pawing at her window. Its attempts to get inside grew more pronounced when it saw what was in her hand. She set the piece of paper down and hurried to let it inside.

“Hello, you.” It slipped through the window the moment it could fit, sparing only a moment to rub against her leg as it went to inspect the buttons with an air of urgency. It narrowed its eyes at the scrap of paper, and Coraline wondered briefly if it could read the writing.

“It’s not the Other Mother, is it?” Coraline asked, taking a seat beside the cat, trying to determine whether it had actually shaken its head in response to her question or not. The cat sniffed at the note and hissed. She took that as a “no”. “I didn’t think so either. What should I do?”

The cat didn’t give her a very definitive reply, and Coraline hadn’t been expecting one either, but it did give her a look that she guessed meant “don’t go through the door”. Coraline crossed her arms and stared at the paper.

“If I don’t go through the door I’ll never find out who is behind it,” she told the cat. It fixed her with a glare and swiped at her leg with its claws. Obviously, it disagreed with her reasoning. “It’s good to know what I’m up against, so I can avoid it in the future. Whatever is behind that door can’t be as bad as the Other Mother.” The cat seemed to disagree with that as well.

Coraline briefly considered asking Wybie for his opinion, but he was being homeschooled today, and she already knew what he would tell her. He would tell her not to go through the little door, to throw the key back into the well, and to ignore the note. But Coraline didn’t want to do any of those things. Something new was behind the little door and she needed to investigate it. If she didn’t do it, no one else would. It was up to her.

She spent the day preparing for the journey back through the little door against the cat’s wishes, packing her satchel with anything and everything she could think of needing. The gardening clippers had served her well last time, so those were the first to go into the bag. She added a flashlight and a walking stick to her arsenal as well, and laid out her exploring clothes on the chair near her bed so she could change into them after her parents had gone to bed. After a moment of hesitation, she slipped the Other Mother’s button eyes and the mysterious note into her bag as well.

The little door was still locked when she went to open it that night, and the tunnel beyond was completely dark. She hadn’t thought there was a tunnel at all until to flicked on her flashlight and shone it inside.

Coraline took a deep breath. She could do this. She had faced the Other Mother, she could face whatever else was behind that door. Maybe it would be the Other Wybie who had helped her escape! Wait, no. The Other Mother had gotten rid of him after that, and even if she hadn’t Coraline didn’t think the Other Wybie would have handwriting like the one on the note. But who else could it be?

Coraline crawled through the tunnel slowly, dragging the walking stick in one hand while trying to aim the flashlight ahead of her with the other.

“You have no idea what you’re going to find, do you?” The cat had followed her into the tunnel, though how it had gotten into the house Coraline wasn’t sure, as she had shut her window to keep it from trying to stop her.

“Do you know what’s behind the door?” she asked, crawling steadily forward.

“I do, and you won’t like him.”

“’Him’?” Coraline paused to look at the cat that had been walking behind her. It took the opportunity to slip beside her, but it didn’t walk ahead.

“He is not like _her_. He is older. Darker. And the games he plays only he can win,” The cat told her. Coraline frowned at the little door ahead of them. Did that mean that he liked to cheat? The Beldam had tried to cheat. She wouldn’t have let Coraline go no matter who won the game.

“What do you think I should do if I see him?” She asked, beginning to crawl forward again.

“What you _should_ do is turn around and leave.”

“Not happening. Got any other advice?” They had reached the door, and Coraline laid her hand against it, reaching for the key that hung from a new string around her neck. She had already made up her mind. She knew it wasn’t the wisest decision, part of her never wanted to see the Other World ever again, but the explorer inside her refused to give up. Whatever it was, she was sure she could handle it.

“Don’t play his game. Don’t go anywhere with him,” the cat finally said. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.” It disappeared down the tunnel, heading back for the real world. Coraline would have to face whatever was behind the door on her own.

The lock was battered and the key stuck in it as she turned it, but the door opened and Coraline hesitated for a moment as it swung open.

The room beyond looked nothing like how she remembered it. There was a floor again now, albeit an uneven one. The last time she had seen it, the floor had fallen away into a spider’s web, and in the middle of that web had been the Other Mother. Coraline wondered if this new floor would fall away too, as it surely looked like it would, and gave the first few feet a hard jab with her walking stick. When nothing changed, she deemed it safe to walk on and crawled from the tunnel, tucking the key back into her shirt as she did.

It was horribly quiet, Coraline noticed as she crept further into the room, tapping her walking stick on the ground lightly in front of her with each step. Where was the Other Mother?

The room looked just like the one in her world, only worse. The wallpaper was splitting off the walls and the furniture looked twice as old. The couch was falling apart at the seams, and the chair looked like it would send the next person who sat in it straight to the floor. She looked for the painting of the sad boy with the ice cream but the canvas had been slashed violently by something with claws. The fireplace in the wall below the painting was empty and cold, and when she looked out the grimy windows all she could see was darkness.

_Squeak_

Coraline turned quickly at the familiar noise and grimaced at the big black shape she saw darting out from under the couch. One of the Other Mr. B’s circus rats perhaps? She kept the little door open as she left the room, following the sound of scrabbling claws and frantic squeaks as the rat fled deeper into the house.

Every room she looked in was empty, and to her immense frustration she couldn’t figure out how to go upstairs. The staircase didn’t take her anywhere, and she had walked for almost two minutes before she looked back the way she had come and found herself no further than when she had started to climb them.

Every door had been unlocked. The only doors in the house that Coraline hadn’t been able to open were the doors that led outside, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go outside anyway considering all she saw when she looked out the windows was darkness.

_Squeak squeak_

She followed the sound into another room, trying not to trip on the edge of one of the floorboards. She’d begun to loose count of how many times she’d tripped on them so far.

It was a good thing she had thought to bring a flashlight with her, she thought as she searched what should have been the kitchen for the rat she had been following. None of the lights worked properly. Half of the switches were missing, and the ones she did find didn’t do anything at all. She never would have been able to find the dark rat without the flashlight.

At first she had thought the rat was leading her somewhere. She would run after it, trying to keep up until she had chased it from the same empty room twice and realized that it just wanted to get away from her. It didn’t like the flashlight.

What was truly odd was the fact that it never slipped past her in order to leave the room. If she was standing in the only doorway, the rat seemed to run straight into a wall and she would hear its squeak coming from another part of the house only seconds later.

Coraline was prepared to leave as she followed the rat down the hallway and watched it skitter into the room with the little door. She hadn’t found the Other Mother, or anyone else really, until she looked into the room and felt her heart leap into her throat.

There, in the center of the room, was a man standing motionlessly, facing the door with his hands behind his back, waiting for her. He was horribly tall and thin, just like the Other Mother had been, and Coraline watched as the black rat she had been chasing scrambled beneath the hem of the long black robe that he wore. She didn’t like the way _things_ seemed to writhe at the edges of her vision when she looked at him.

Her eyes slowly climbed back upwards and she gulped as an eerily wide smile stretched across his gaunt face, showing a mouthful of teeth that were far too sharp. He was dreadfully skinny, like a starving man, and his skin was so pallid that it appeared to be gray. He looked rather bird-like with his pointed face and hooked nose, Coraline thought, but where his eyes should have been, there were only a pair of glittering black buttons sewn into his face.

 

 

“Have you finished exploring?”

Coraline took an involuntary step back at the barely contained excitement in his silken voice, as if he were on the verge of jumping with glee though he had yet to move from where he stood. He was too still for someone who sounded so eager. She steeled herself and stepped into the room, noting with relief that the little door remained open just as she had left it.

“Who are you?” Coraline asked, finding her voice. It was the first question that popped into her head. He gave her a thin-lipped smile, as though he were hiding something that he desperately wanted to show her.

“Guess,” he prompted. Coraline narrowed her eyes.

“You’re not the Other Mother. Where is she?” She hadn’t found any trace of the Other Mother when she had searched the house but it wasn’t as though the Other Mother could have gone anywhere.

“Hm? Oh, the Beldam. I’ve taken care of her. Did you like my gift?” the man asked, tilting his head to one side like an odd bird eyeing a grub. Gift? What gift? Oh, he must have been the one who wrote the note. In that case…

“I don’t want it. The buttons, I mean,” She told him, watching with a flicker of worry as his unnerving smile diminished considerably.

“You didn’t like them?” his shoulders fell and he sounded hurt. Coraline wondered if it was a bad thing for her to upset him.

“No, no, I just thought… Well, I wasn’t the one who actually pulled out the buttons, so I figured it would be better if I just returned them to you,” she tried to explain as politely as she could. He brightened a bit at that.

“Oh, I see. How thoughtful! So you brought them with you then?” If he had eyes she was sure he would have glanced at her bag, but as it was he just seemed to be staring blankly in whichever direction his head was turned to.

“I have them right here,” Coraline confirmed, rummaging through her bag, more than happy to get rid of the creepy present. It didn’t feel smart of her to look away while she searched for them, but she did it anyway and sighed in relief when she found them.

The man was holding his hand out to her when she looked up again, and either he had gotten closer or his arm was a bit longer than it should have been. Coraline couldn’t tell, she was just relieved to have avoided offending him by refusing his “gift”.

She eyed his hand with trepidation as she took a small step forward. His fingers were long and thin, like a skeleton, with his skin pulled taut over the bones. His hand looked like he had been digging with it, though she couldn’t imagine why. She was very familiar with the dirt that caked on her own hands after an afternoon spent playing in the garden.

Coraline dropped the buttons into his hand and watched his fingers curl around them as it withdrew. He tucked them away in some inner pocket of his robe, his thin lips curving into another eerie smile.

“Thank you, Coraline. Have a seat, won’t you? We have so much to talk about,” he said smoothly, waving his hand towards the dilapidated sofa invitingly as he turned his body to the side for her to pass.

His voice made her skin crawl. It had the potential to sound very pleasant, she thought, but every time he spoke he seemed to run out of breath, as though he were just a step away from exhaustion, and friendly words seemed far too sinister coming from his mouth. Not to mention he was probably crazy. Most adults she met were, but he seemed particularly so. He was probably crazier than Mr. B.

“I’d rather stand,” She told him. The last time she had been told to sit in this place the chair she had sat in turned out to be a bug. The man shrugged, choosing instead to pace in a wide circle around her, herding her further into the room. “Why are you here?” She asked.

“I wanted to meet the brave little girl who defeated the Beldam,” the man exclaimed as though it should have been obvious, still circling her slowly. He was looking at her appraisingly, and Coraline had to spin in order to keep him in sight.

“You’re not planning to eat me, are you?” she asked wearily, not bothering to disguise her suspicions. He looked hungry enough, with his hollowed cheeks and boney limbs.

“No,” He stated matter-of-factly. It was too blunt. She would have expected him to be more appalled by the notion, to reassure her vehemently that he wouldn’t dream of it. The fact that he didn’t made her think that he _could_ eat her if he wanted to, and that the notion wasn’t nearly as horrifying to him as it was to her.

He reached out suddenly and Coraline flinched as he touched a few strands of her hair. She pulled it out of his grip easily, bumping into the distorted chair as she backed away. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, but she noticed the way her walking stick had passed clean through his legs when she had swung it at them.

“You have lovely hair. Have you ever considered growing it out?” he asked abruptly, his hand outstretched as though he still held her hair in it. The things were still crawling at the edges of her vision, even more so now, but she couldn’t see them when she looked.

“I… I like it short,” Coraline replied, daring to glance over her shoulder at the little door. When she looked back she _knew for a fact_ that he had gotten closer because he definitely hadn’t loomed over her like that before, and his claw-like hands were inches away from seizing her head, stretching like a cage of talons around it. She was proud of herself for not flinching, but now she had no way of distancing herself without seeming rude and she still wasn’t sure if upsetting the man was something she ought to avoid.

His touch was light when tilted her chin, turning her head in various directions as though he wanted to know what it looked like from every angle. His contemplative hum sounded more like white noise at first, and Coraline could have sworn he looked fond for a split second before she decided that she’d had enough and stepped out of his grasp. He didn’t seem to think anything about the situation was strange. She thought that maybe he was trying to make an effort to appear normal, like the Other Mother had done at first, but his efforts were severely misrepresented.

“I should be going,” she announced, trying not to seem too eager to leave even as she edged slowly backwards towards the little door. No sooner had the man comprehended this, the little door swung shut, and Coraline whirled with a gasp to see something that wasn’t quite a rat scamper away.

“No!” he sounded panicked for a moment before checking himself. His voice was softer as he continued. “Stay, please, it’s been so long since I’ve had company,” he beseeched, moving as though he were half considering barring her way with his body but stopping just beside the door instead.

“I would love to stay, really I would, but it’s getting late and I don’t want to worry anyone,” Coraline said quickly, hoping the man would be easier to trick than the Other Mother had been. She liked her chances. The man was unhinged definitely. Whatever was in his head, Coraline was sure it was missing a few pieces.

“Oh… Oh, I see.” –She didn’t think he did— “Will you come back then?” he sounded so hopeful she almost said yes, except there was something pulsing on his neck that looked like it shouldn’t be there, with oily black claws and milky white eyes, and Coraline thought if she looked at it for much longer she might gag because how could he not notice it was there? Didn’t he see the things that were starting to crawl all over him? Didn’t he feel them moving under his robe? Wasn’t it uncomfortable?

She gave him a stiff nod, doing her very best not to shudder when he caressed her cheek with his fingers. His hands were freezing.

“ _I’ll_ come back. I promise,” he said, as though he were the one leaving instead of her.

Coraline was extra sure to lock both of the little doors when she left.

When she climbed back into her bed, she dreamt of rats that sounded like babies screaming, of an animal scratching behind a closed door, and of lips brushing against her forehead in a gentle kiss.


End file.
